


sick and cruel, instead

by lennonbum



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5505245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennonbum/pseuds/lennonbum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll call you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	sick and cruel, instead

Quietly, the bedroom door opened and closed, accompanied by the familiar noise of Johnny's shoes against the floor. "Are you asleep?" The guitarist's voice was soft, and Morrissey could've sworn it shook, if only a little. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he drew in a breath and let it out into the pillow beneath his aching head, shifting underneath the covers that shrouded him in comfortable darkness. 

"Not yet."

Johnny sighed, and sat on the bed. "I'll call you.” It didn’t sound much like a promise, and a promise was something Morrissey longed for. The past two weeks had left the singer in a heightened state of distress, wondering what he'd done to make Johnny angry enough to drop everything and leave. 

"That isn't necessary," Morrissey insisted, sniffing. "What do you mean, it isn't necessary? Course it is. It's not like I won't ever see you again." Morrissey, at long last, sat up, though he avoided Johnny's eye. "Leave." Johnny frowned, furrowing his brow. "Are you gonna be alright?" Morrissey kept his head down. "I don't care, just go." Johnny exhaled, his chest heaving beneath his pleather jacket. "You've always got to be like this, Moz," he lilted, extending a hand to rest upon Morrissey's knee. "I'm telling you, though. It’s gonna be alright, you’re gonna be alright. I’ll call you.”

Morrissey scowled to himself. "If I can't have you, I've got no desire to see you." Johnny murmured a frustrated curse underneath his breath and pushed his hair out of his eyes. The singer noticed Marr’s dismay, and opened his mouth to speak, but uttered nothing. "I'm gonna leave you alone." Johnny started for the door. 

"Please, don't." 

Another heavy sigh. "Moz," Johnny grimaced, and Morrissey silently acknowledged Johnny's fruitless attempts to appease him. "We can't go on like this, alright? All I ask is that you don't hate me. I don't want to hate you." Morrissey fidgeted, crossing his legs underneath the covers. "If you want to leave, I won't stand in your way anymore. I didn't mean to beg you earlier, I'm sorry for that." Johnny shrugged, smiling, though somberly. "Don't apologize."

They sat in stuffy silence for an achingly slow amount of minutes before Johnny draped his slender arms around Morrissey's trembling frame, the older man hesitantly resting his head against Johnny's chest. The embrace was too quick, and it made Morrissey's stomach fall into knots and his head spin uncontrollably. 

"Get some rest, Moz. You're shaking." 

Morrissey said nothing in response, only curled beneath the warm blankets once again, his chest tightening at the gentle touch of Johnny's guitar-calloused fingertips brushing gently through his hair and around his temples. Before he could stop himself, however, he was drifting to sleep.

When Morrissey stirred the following morning, Johnny was gone, and not a trace of him was left behind.


End file.
